Imperial Center
by SiriuslyPeeved
Summary: Beginning one year before Ep. IV, an inexperienced bureaucrat learns the truth about the Empire she has faithfully upheld while navigating her professional rivalry with Senator Leia Organa. OC/OC, features both canon and EU characters.
1. Proper Authorization

**Disclaimer:** Lucasfilm owns the Galaxy Far Far Away, and since this company has given the author many happy hours since she first saw Star Wars in the theater at the age of four, she'll forgive them for quite a lot. She's even beginning to get over being so upset about the prequels…

**Author's Note:** This story will be basically movie-compliant. It may be a slight AU as we go along. My first fandom loves were the old Marvel Star Wars comics from the 1970s and 80s, so expect some cameos from characters and locations. (The Thrawn series may also make appearances)

This is especially for Rosawyn and the members of the Reviews Lounge, Too, who've told me I really need to get out of the Potterverse once in a while and get some fresh air. Who me?

I've been working on this for my own enjoyment and now it's time to set it free. I don't know how frequently I'll be able to update, since I have another major WIP in progress, but I do have several chapters of this story ready to go, so we're good for a while... As always, hope you enjoy, and I welcome all constructive criticism. (especially if you notice any major canon errors as I'm a bit rusty in the fandom) Thanks for reading!

_"Observance of customs and laws can very easily be a cloak for a lie so subtle that our fellow human beings are unable to detect it. It may help us to escape all criticism, we may even be able to deceive ourselves in the belief of our obvious righteousness. But deep down, below the surface of the average man's conscience, he hears a voice whispering, "There is something not right," no matter how much his rightness is supported by public opinion or by the moral code._

~ Carl G. Jung, 1931

**One year before **_**Episode IV: A New Hope**_

**Proper Authorization**

Belesa clenched the datapad stylus hard enough to make her fingers numb. "I am not authorized to release the figures in question. The Senator will need to submit the new forms to my department head."

"Yes, in triplicate, I'm sure, and then it will take seven to ten business days." Brys Omora pushed his chair back with a frustrated shove and crossed to the small window. Imperial City swirled behind him, half-hidden in a thick gray mist. Omora softened his stance. "Why can't you give me the bids on Stormtrooper uniforms from the third quarter? We've always shared that information in the past."

Belesa strove to keep her expression neutral even as her pride threatened an outburst. "Procedures change in troubled times." She tapped a few squares on the glowing glass surface of her datapad. "I just sent you all the documentation you will need and a copy of the new access protocol. Please review them with Senator Organa. I will be happy to assist you when the new requirements have been met. Good day."

Omora turned back to face her as the office doors quietly opened. "I hope you know what you're doing, Miss Rynon. You may share responsibility for the coming bloodshed."

Belesa's sweaty fingers left marks on the desk as she stood up. "Caf. Milk and sweetener. Hot." As the beverage machine bubbled, she stood at the window and looked down into the street. The traffic of Imperial City wove sparkling webs above and below her, aircars and taxis winking back and forth in chaotic streams. She had never minded the noise or the crowds; it was home.

Belesa studied her reflection in the tinted window, indistinct against the brilliant streaks of color and light outside. She knew she was unremarkable: shorter and broader than most women her age, neither fashionable nor pretty. While her father's middling position in the Palace had given her an opportunity others did not enjoy, she worked hard and was proud of it. She helped supply the Emperor's troops and contain the fledgling Rebellion, maintaining peace for billions of citizens. Belesa gulped her hot drink and shuffled the printouts on her desk, reviewing the figures she had concealed.

In the third quarter, accounting reported a two-hundred-percent increase in stormtrooper uniform production. TaggeMobile Systems had just won a new ten-million-credit contract to build portable troop housing. Another column noted a request for three hundred sets of caps and insignia for the Navy cadets at Carida.

The bells on her antique desktop clock chimed the end of the workday. Under the table, Belesa flexed her feet. All she wanted to do was to go home and call out for dinner, then eat it in front of the holoscreen. She buzzed her assistant.

"Lora, do I have any new messages?"

"Your mother, Miss Rynon. She wanted to be sure you remembered her party tonight."

Belesa winced. Wonderful – that would cap off the week. Her mother's parties were notorious in the City; entertaining the intellectual elite and those of high position enhanced her family's prospects, and the Rynon clan was nothing if not ambitious. Tonight she had invited the entire Alderaan delegation including Brys Omora and Senator Organa herself.

As the turbolift plummeted to her parking space below the office tower, Belesa took a tiny comlink from her handbag.

"Your mother's party is tonight?" Dara complained. "That's short notice. I don't have anything to wear, and I have an early morning class tomorrow." Dara was finishing her graduate studies in history at the Imperial University.

"You're working too hard again." Belesa started her bright red speeder: a luxury model, one of the best small machines on the market. After three years in the civil service, Belesa had finally been able to buy it without any help from her parents. She clicked into reverse and zoomed between the ticket droids at the gates, heading uptown. Defogging controls came on automatically as drizzle hit the windscreens.

"Don't drive while you're talking to me! You're going to get another ticket."

"Father gets them erased. He could take care of yours, too."

Dara grumbled something that Belesa didn't hear, distracted by a ponderous yellow taxi drifting into her lane. Belesa's red speeder skipped underneath it and zoomed from the far right to the left-turn lane. Below, pilots hauled on their retro-thrusters and swore.

"Please come, Dara. I don't want to go by myself. You know how Mother's been lately… Father's been in some sort of difficulty lately, and she's desperate to get him back into the inner circle. Besides, she invited that little snip Senator Organa. I don't know how anyone can work for her, but Lora says she's got dozens of interns clamoring to empty her recycling bin while I can't even get one sunburned idiot from the Outer Rim to do my filing." Rain blattered more heavily against the windscreens. Belesa punched irritably at the wiper controls. "I can't believe I spent so much on this speeder and the wipers don't even work."

On the comm, Dara giggled. "I'll come, but what do you have against Senator Organa? You've never actually spoken to her, have you?"

"Only cocktail party chit-chat… she was at General Tagge's ball last month. She's just so impressed with herself, and she's barely old enough to drive. _Alderaan is a peaceful planet, we have no weapons, and look at our hair, it's ridiculous..._"

"I'll meet you there. Be careful!"

Belesa had only a moment to wonder why Dara wanted her to be careful - was it her flying, or something she'd said? - before she nearly smacked into the side of the Kitera Towers. She laughed and wheeled the speeder around in a three-point turn, reversing neatly into her own space.

* * *

><p>A blue-cloaked guard stepped aside as Belesa touched her parents' doorbell. Dara fussed with her sleeves; she had done her best to conceal the wear marks on the borrowed gold velvet gown with rows of pearl bead bracelets.<p>

"Come in, girls." Lady Adreana Rynon hugged her daughter and gave Dara a kiss on the cheek. Her emerald green septsilk gown billowed out at the knee and rustled against their legs. "Supper is ready. I thought we'd have something light before the guests arrive. It's never proper to eat like a starved bantha at a formal party."

Lady Adreana led them into a vestibule just off the main entryway, where a manservant waited by the coat closet. In most households on Imperial Center, such tedious tasks would be handled by a protocol droid, but the higher ranks preferred a personal touch. Wealth and power, Belesa knew, depended as much on appearances as on the underlying truth. Belesa shrugged out of her long overcoat and dropped it in the direction of Mother's valet. Dara carefully folded her wrap and passed it to him. The valet touched his forehead and smiled.

"I don't understand why you have to be so drab. Did you come straight from the office? And why did you cut your lovely hair?" Lady Adreana turned to her daughter's choice of clothes with barely concealed dismay. Belesa liked her outfit, it was new only that week: a long black suit jacket with a high collar over slim trousers and calf-high black boots. Her only touch of color came from her most treasured possession: a ruby brooch in the shape of the Imperial signet. It was a gift from the Emperor on her sixteenth birthday, when her father had been more respected at the Palace. Lady Adreana brushed at a stray hair on Belesa's shoulder. "Well, at least the jacket does make you look taller."

Dara poked Belesa in the back. "It also makes you look like you just fell off the bridge of the _Executor._"

"Quiet!"

Dara followed a flushed Belesa through the marble entryway and into the family dining alcove. Larien Rynon lounged in a high-backed chair with a large glass of pale green wine in one hand.

"Good evening, ladies. I'm very glad you're here; I'm famished. His Excellency kept us quite late." The Councilor's round face folded easily into a smile.

A servant brought covered dishes, trailing steam and savory aromas. Adreana dismissed him and served mixed grains, mixed vegetables, and a simple baked casserole. "I do enjoy having my whole family at home," she said, smiling at Dara as she passed a square white plate down the table. "It looks like it's been a long time since you two had a home-cooked meal."

"Home-cooked!" said Belesa's father with a touch of mischief. "Who once told me that her greatest ambition was to never touch a prep unit again?"

"I said 'home-cooked,' dear, not 'personally cooked by your mother.'"

Belesa picked through her casserole, removing the mushrooms one by one and making a neat semicircle on her plate. "I had a long day as well, Father. There's been trouble with the new data protocol."

The Councilor speared a long green vegetable with his fork and ate it in neat bites. "I might have expected that. Chandrila, Corellia, or Alderaan?"

"Alderaan."

"We have been too generous with the Senate. The transition may be difficult, but it is necessary to control such information for the common good."

Dara set down her fork and glanced at Belesa for an explanation. "We've put some new procedures into place at the office. Just a few additional forms to fill out: it's nothing too bothersome."

Councilor Rynon patted his lips with a napkin. "The Information Act does have great significance for the public, my dear. By gathering more data, the Empire will be better able to protect its citizens."

"What kind of data?" Dara persisted. Belesa's father set down his half-full wine glass and frowned. Swiftly, a servant filled it from a crystal decanter. "I'm just curious, sir. I've studied similar measures used in the Old Republic."

"Movement between planets… purchases with credit chips… association with dangerous people or organizations."

"I didn't realize the Act went so far, Father," Belesa said, laying her fork and knife down beside her plate. Another servant came to clear it away.

"How is it decided which organizations are dangerous?"

Belesa recognized the glitter in her father's eyes; they were the same when he hunted shaak at the Emperor's game preserve on Naboo. "Dara, it's not important." Her words tripped over one another in haste. "What's important is that it works."

"You've studied the Clone Wars in great detail. The Old Republic learned a bitter lesson. Only under a single strong leader will the galaxy be safe."

"With the Senate to provide a diverse perspective," Belesa added, echoing something her father had often said.

The Councilor gripped fork and knife in both hands. "The Senators are as greedy and contentious as ever. Only the Emperor can preserve the peace."

Belesa was hurt and unsettled. The Councilor laid his cutlery aside and massaged his fingers where ridged marks remained.

Melodic chimes in the outer hallway signaled the first guests' arrival. Lady Adreana pushed her chair back from the table and arranged her silver hair, smiling at the young women. Dara and Belesa were all too glad to get up from the table.

The salon curved along the outer wall of the Palace; floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a misty twilight view of Imperial City. Outside, luxurious aircars glided serenely past, bearing dignitaries to evening gatherings.

Servants moved silently with silver trays, presenting Cambrian wine and blue-veined cheeses. Dara spied one of her history instructors and repaired to a corner to talk. Bored, Belesa sipped her second glass of wine. She nodded pleasantries at her parents' friends and pretended great interest in the buffet table, hanging back some distance from the shifting groups.

"It's nearly operational... construction is ahead of schedule. Tarkin says..."

"This is the time to invest. By this time next year, it will be over. Think of the opportunity you're missing..."

"Oh yes, isn't it lovely? Made from the skin of a strange lizard. Oh, I don't know where they used to live; one of those horrible backwater systems. They're being farmed for their hide."

Belesa shivered and stepped away from the lady in the feathered green jacket. The skin was expertly tanned and almost looked alive, as if it would reach out and bite you if you came close enough.

Dressed in sleeveless, flowing white, Senator Organa held court in the middle of the room. Her dark hair stood upon her brow in intricate braids, giving a much-needed illusion of height. The Senator attracted quite a crowd as always: mostly older men. Belesa could hear her acid voice slicing through conversations.

"It's a disturbing trend, ma'am. The Senate won't stand for regulations being passed behind our backs. This afternoon, my aide tried to obtain the most basic data from Military Procurement and was refused."

Brys Omora had noticed Belesa watching them from behind the buffet table. He nudged the Senator's arm.

"I'm aware of that." Leia Organa's cool brown eyes passed over Belesa as if she were merely a spot on the wallpaper.

Stepping toward her, Belesa felt like she was walking along the edge of a high rooftop, ready to fall at any second. "Senator," she said in a carrying voice.

"Miss Rynon." Leia Organa inclined her head slightly. "It is always a pleasure to visit your lovely home."

"I don't live here, Senator."

"All the same." The Alderaanian flicked her fingers as if to dislodge a bit of sticky pastry. "Gentlemen, Miss Rynon is not only the daughter of our hosts, but an assistant director of Military Procurement. We were discussing the recent tightening of data access protocols. Perhaps she can shed some light for us."

"The new regulations protect information from falling into the wrong hands. Trying to circumvent them only damages your reputation."

The younger woman laughed, lighting her childishly round face. "My reputation? How's yours, _Lady_ Belesa?" Senator Organa inflicted the false title with particular malice. Her father was Lord only by Palpatine's courtesy, and her mother the only Lady in the family. "Keep your head down and do what Father tells you: that's your reputation. Comfortable, isn't it, never having to think for yourself?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Senator."

"Think about it, Belesa, but not too hard. You might break something." The crowd around the Senator broke into nervous laughter.

Belesa turned and fled. Cheap pearl beads clacked behind her, but she didn't stop for Dara's anxious hand on her elbow. She headed down the interior corridor of her parents' apartment and nearly flattened one of her mother's exotic plants. In her mind, she kept replaying her confrontation with Senator Organa, hearing her own words over and over.

At the end of the hallway, Belesa pressed her hand against a doorplate and stepped quickly inside. She pressed her folded arms against the wall and buried her face in her sleeve, gasping to get control of herself.

Mother had left Belesa's childhood room untouched. She sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed the white bedspread. A lighted case on the far wall held student awards, holos of herself and Dara at the University, and her plaque from the New Order of Youth, recognizing four years as Student Treasurer. Mother wanted to knock the wall down and enlarge the library next door, but Father had talked her into leaving it alone.

Leia Organa had absolutely nothing to say about fathers and daughters. Her father was the Viceroy of Alderaan, making Leia a Princess. Belesa felt a faint rush of heartburn: too much wine and the heavy cream sauce at dinner.

Belesa slid off the bed and straightened her jacket, brushing a few crumbs from the hem. Dara must have known where she went, why hadn't she followed? As she passed the entrance hall in search of her friend, the front door slid open. Belesa jumped. An unmistakable dark figure swept past the blue-clad guards. She sank immediately in a deep obeisance.

"Lord Vader."


	2. Daughter of the Empire

**Disclaimer:** Only the OCs are mine. Playing with Lucasfilm's characters, settings, and ultimate weapons of destruction, and will return them in undamaged condition!

**Author's Note:** Readers may note that Belesa is ever so slightly evil-Sueish, and a spoiled brat besides. Don't worry, I know, and it's okay.

I'm having a ball with this story. I'm not quite sure where it's going, but for me, it's as much fun as playing Star Wars on the school playground way back when. Onward!

Thanks to tfclvi for the corrections on this chapter!

**Daughter of the Empire**

"This is an unexpected honor, Your Grace. My parents will be so pleased."

Vader extended his hand in a courtly gesture. Belesa shivered before letting him help her to her feet. His black leather gloves were cold to the touch. "Miss Rynon, I am glad to see you well."

"My Lord." She curtseyed once more on stiff knees. Knowing the Sith was devoted to the Emperor, to peace and justice, did not diminish the power of his presence.

"This way, my Lord, if you please. Father will be anxious to greet you in person." The Sith Lord gestured to her, and with trembling awe, Belesa laid her palm on his gauntleted forearm.

Her awareness floated above the scene in a rush of disbelief and wonder. Most of the guests were timidly respectful, covering what had to be heart-clenching fear with careful correctness. There was nothing resembling fear in Leia Organa's childish face. Vader passed Leia silently, the trailing edge of his night-dark cloak sweeping across her feet.

"Lord Vader. What a privilege to welcome you into my home." The Councilor bowed, but neither as deeply nor for as long as his daughter had. Vader inclined his head with an ironic nod. Could a Sith Lord possess a sense of humor? If Belesa's childhood lessons were true, the Jedi most certainly had not.

"Our Master requested that I bring you his greetings. I also carry a message which I must relay to you in private."

"Yes, of course, Lord Vader. Please come into my study." Belesa's father stood tall and straight, yet he was made insignificant by the Sith Lord as they moved away.

After the study door whirred shut, the guests were hushed for a few moments, straining to hear Vader's voice. A woman in a pearl-colored gown murmured to her neighbor, and then, as if given permission, an excited babble broke out. Dara rushed to Belesa's side and pulled her into a corner near the dessert table.

Dara's forehead glistened with sweat. "What was that all about?"

"I was on my way to find you. Lord Vader was at the door. I showed him in." Belesa managed to sound casual as she reached for a chocolate éclair, but her hands were shaking enough for Dara to notice.

"I can't believe you can eat right now!"

"This is for my nerves." She took some comfort in the rich, cool filling and the dark chocolate taste of the icing. "These are delicious. I wonder where Mother ordered them."

"It's too bad Vader can never eat in public; I'm sure you'd enjoy serving _him._"

"Dara, what has gotten into you?"

Her friend looked guiltily toward the study door. "I have to go… I'm sorry. I hope I see you soon."

"But we were going to go out dancing!"

"I'll call you; I promise." Dara kissed her cheek and hurried to the valet for her coat. Not long afterward, Belesa saw the old professor leaving as well. She tried to catch him, but he pretended not to hear her.

Belesa finished the sweet pastry and wiped her fingers on a cloth napkin. A girl servant whisked it away almost before it dropped to the table.

"There she is!"

Belesa grimaced. An hour ago, she had been a figure of ridicule at the hands of Leia Organa, and now she found herself the target of fame-seekers. Perhaps Lord Vader's star had fallen a bit among the Governors, but not among the bureaucratic elite of Imperial City.

"Oh, wasn't he splendid?"

Belesa answered without thinking. "I hadn't expected Lord Vader to have such courtly manners when his daily occupation is to kill people."

The eager faces closed. Frightened eyes flicked to the study where Vader and her father remained closeted. Others stared back at her in shock.

Across the room, Senator Organa caught Belesa's eye for a moment; the tiniest shadow of a smile creased her girlish, round face. Mortification and fury gelled together in Belesa's gut, turning the chocolate éclair to a hard lump in her stomach.

After the Alderaanian delegation took its leave, Belesa quickly excused herself to find her mother. Lady Adreana straightened a half-full carafe on the wine table in a show of domesticity.

"Where did Dara go in such a hurry? I'd have thought Lord Vader would be very interested in learning about her research."

Belesa giggled at her mother's absurdity; her anger drained away. Adreana Rynon was just as smitten with the Sith Lord as any of her guests. "Dara has an early lecture in the morning. She works very hard."

"We're all proud of her." Lady Adreana's color remained high, and her blue eyes were brighter than Belesa had seen them in years.

Before the door to the Councilor's office was fully open, Vader stalked out. Lady Adreana sank to one knee in a billow of green, but Belesa was too startled to show respect. Vader's burnished black helmet caught the candlelight from the recessed sconces and reflected back a ghostly fire. Belesa bowed her head to hide her frightened face.

Vader's departure left the guests in silence. Finally a man in officer's grey dared to mutter something to his trembling wife. Speech spread hesitantly throughout the room. Belesa helped her mother back to her feet.

Larien Rynon leaned against the doorframe, his shoulders bent like a much older man. Belesa's heart beat painfully to see him unharmed.

His bright-plumaged wife slipped under his arm. "Larien, are you all right?"

"Of course." He squeezed her shoulder. "Lord Vader had some unsettling news."

"Father, he didn't threaten you!"

Councilor Rynon straightened too quickly to be believed and turned away from the sparkling night view of Imperial City. "No, child, whatever made you think that?"

"He left so quickly... I was afraid."

Belesa's father cupped her cheek in one hand, as he had when she was a little girl. "We have nothing to fear from Lord Vader. He is but a fellow servant of the Emperor, and our family serves well and faithfully. Whatever he commands, it is our honor to obey." Belesa was about to argue that her father had not answered her question, but her mother warned her off with a sharp look.

"Adreana, dear, please see to our guests. I'll set Belesa's mind at ease."

"Father, I wish you'd tell me what's going on."

The study doors closed behind them with a soft squeak. Councilor Rynon drew his daughter down beside him on a low leather sofa. It was too glossy to be comfortable and made his bony knees stick up awkwardly. "I'd hoped to tell you at a better time." Belesa opened her mouth to object. Larien chuckled. "When you stop reminding me you're a grown woman at every turn, then I'll truly believe it."

"And I'll believe it myself when you stop trotting out the same old rigmarole every time I start asking questions."

"Point taken." Her father leaned back and stretched his long arms along the back of the unyielding sofa. "The Empire is moving toward a new era of peace. I've been asked to speak to the Senators regarding a special project."

"I haven't heard of a special project."

"Yes, you've got a mid-level security clearance."

Belesa normally knew better than to press her father on such issues, but three glasses of Cambrian wine made her bolder than usual. "Father…"

"While I applaud the spirit of inquiry, I truly can't say another word about it... only that its construction gives me hope for lasting peace." Larien Rynon ruffled his daughter's short hair and levered himself up from the low, slippery couch. "Come, let's have a nightcap. You've been entirely too serious for this party."

"I shouldn't," Belesa giggled, reeling a little bit on her feet. "I'm afraid of scraping up my speeder again."

"You'll stay with us tonight. When we can face the light of day at last, we'll all go out for brunch."

Belesa hugged her father around the waist. He kissed her forehead before opening the study door. The remaining revelers were enjoying themselves; the Trandoshan keyboard player turned up the volume to match. A young Palace functionary caught Belesa by the hand and pulled her into the center of the floor to dance.

By Monday morning, Dara still had not called. Belesa wasn't worried: sometimes her friend forgot to charge her comlink. She spent more time than usual at her datascreen, flicking idly between news sites on the Holonet. She wasn't sure what she was looking for: something to explain her restlessness, to banish the image of Lord Vader striding out of her father's study with his polished helmet shining in the dim candlelight and the ghost of fire hovering just behind him.

The comm tinkled softly in the outer office. "Miss Rynon, it's Captain Hedron of the Army Supply Unit. Shall I put him through?"

Perplexed, Belesa picked up the call. Hedron was an older Corellian officer and a friend of her department head, Admiral Grey. Hedron rarely asked for her. "Captain?"

"Finally I've got a human being on the comm. Belesa Rynon? Larien's little girl?"

"Assistant Director Rynon," she blandly replied. It wasn't a new technique to gain her attention. "How may I assist you, Captain?"

"No need to be sniffy, Miss Rynon. Glad you took my call. Your boss won't. I meant to say – what in the Wookiee's hairy armpit is going on?"

"I don't quite know what you mean."

"Had any contractors call to complain their money wasn't coming?"

Belesa started at the number of unread messages in her inbox, all with "Urgent" flashing. "Now that you mention it -"

"I want to know _exactly_ why my purchase orders haven't been approved. Accounts Payable says they've been deauthorized. I've got to feed fifty thousand troops a day in this sector alone!" The Corellian's voice cracked. "They've been making me look like an ass all morning long! Kept telling them it must be some colossal foul-up at Procurement!"

Belesa felt faint. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Captain."

"Calling your dad right about now?" asked Hedron shrewdly.

"Good day, Captain." Belesa stared down at her datascreen. Her inbox flooded with howls and shrieks from suppliers and purchasing officers alike. The sensible course would be to talk to the Admiral first, but Belesa dialed her father.

"Councilor Rynon isn't available." Her father's Gungan-faced assistant seemed to take pleasure in the news. "Gone on a tour this morning. He won't be back until teatime at the earliest."

"All right, fine!" Belesa pulled her personal comlink out of her purse and stabbed at her father's secret access code.

"What's happening to my purchase orders?" She couldn't keep the rage out of her voice.

Her father took a moment to answer. "His Excellency has redirected all non-essential funds to a crucial project. It must be completed in the next six months, then everything will be back to normal."

"Back to normal!" Belesa nearly shrieked. "Non-essential funds? There are two hundred and seventy-six messages from my clients! There are thousands upon thousands of soldiers and civilians who won't be getting their supplies! What could be so blasted important as feeding the troops?"

"The Death Star."

"It's true, then."

Her father clicked off, and when Belesa tried to call him back, the comlink was powered down.

Admiral Grey took the news surprisingly well. "I think it's time to cash in our vacation time. Have you been to Mon Calamari?"

"The squid heads won't save me now," said the Admiral with a fatalistic laugh. "You, either, despite your fortunate connections."

"The Death Star won't wait."

"I heard there were already two hundred thousand on board."

"But it's not even finished!"

Even inside their office walls, the Emperor was listening. Belesa put her feet up and opened another packet of biscuits. She needed to refuel before she received any more nasty surprises. "Someone's got to call all our suppliers and ask them to front four weeks' worth of food and essential items. The rest we can put on hold."

Admiral Grey smiled thinly. "You've just appointed yourself to the job, Miss Rynon. Good luck."

Twelve hours later, Belesa left the office. She put in subspace calls in all over the galaxy, pleading to be forwarded a month's worth of supplies, with the promise of exclusive contracts and bonuses to those who acquiesced. She had the worst time with the Hutts – and why the Empire had so many food service contracts with organized crime, she didn't want to know.

When Belesa keyed open the door of her flat in the Kitera Towers, her father was waiting in the living room. He hadn't been home to change; his velvet courtier's robes were rumpled.

"Father?"

"I thought you might be working late. Incidentally, my dear, His Excellency is quite pleased with your ingenuity."

"And how would that be?" Belesa was too exhausted to be anything but completely honest. Kicking off her uncomfortable shoes, she waved in the direction of the housekeeping droid. The droid's pincers extended, gently grasping the discarded footwear and rolling silently into the bedroom.

"It _might _be considered embarrassing for the Empire not to be able to pay its own bills."

"I didn't mean it like that," Belesa said with sudden horror.

"That's why His Excellency appreciated your ingenious problem-solving. A catastrophic system failure?"

Belesa closed her eyes, half ashamed of herself. "I took your admin password and hacked around in there. I don't even know half of what I did."

"How long will it take to reprogram it?"

"About a week and a half. If they fix it too quickly, I'll get back in there and break it again." She had hidden the backup tapes in the refresher unit in her office. Nobody would look there, and after enough time had passed, she could destroy the copy.

Councilor Rynon laughed. "If Propaganda only had your special talents..."

"Then we wouldn't be sitting here talking about covering up for the Death Star."

Her father's jovial mood ended suddenly. "Belesa, I never want to hear those words again. Promise me."

"I don't even know what it does, Father. It's a planet-size thing that can support half a million troops. Is it the biggest troop transport ever? Is it a warship? I don't even know, but I've spent my entire day destroying my professional reputation for this thing, maybe even my career."

"It has to be worth it, child." Her father gripped her shoulders hard in both hands. "Emperor Palpatine expects it of me… and of you as well."

"The Emperor spoke to you about _me_?" Belesa saw the fear in her father's round face, and she didn't press him any further.

"The Empire is paramount. How we serve isn't really our choice." Larien Rynon bowed his head in exhaustion. "I haven't seen His Excellency in person in five years."

"What?"

"Only Lord Vader himself and the Red Guards are allowed in his chambers… and the Hands." Her father shifted in his seat. "He's growing older, sacrificed the strength of his body to preserve order. The Jedi nearly ruined him at the end of the Clone Wars… we are very fortunate he survived. The strain of this rebellion has worn on him. I don't think he leaves the inner sanctum. He prefers to spend his days in meditation and to speak to us by hologram. His presence- " her father rubbed his throat and swallowed. "It's unmistakable."

"I know." Belesa herself had only been in the Emperor's throne room once, presented at the age of seven with all the sons and daughters of courtiers and close advisors. Palpatine had laid a gnarled hand on her head and pronounced her a daughter of the Empire, then predicted a long and fruitful life in his service.

Once in a great while, a child presented to the Emperor might even be taken into his personal service, but no one knew what befell him or her. Belesa remembered suddenly that at her own Presentation, her mother had wept; at the time, she thought it was from joy.

"Father, I'm tired. I really need to go to bed."

"I'll let myself out." The Councilor raised a tired hand. Belesa dropped down beside him on the couch and held him tightly.

"Be safe, Father."

"The Emperor's hand shelters us all."


	3. Redevelopment

**Disclaimer:** Yep, you know the drill. It's not mine. Thanks, George!

**Author's Note:** This chapter is revised and expanded, thanks to some very thoughtful reviewers and a re-watching of certain film scenes!

Thanks also to those who left such kind and useful reviews on previous chapters. Never invite Vader to a cocktail party, indeed! My "crusty old fangirl" is also waking up thanks to rewriting this story. I'm beginning to get a handle on Belesa's character; she sure has a nose for trouble. I wouldn't call her a self-insert, but I spent a number of years in the bureaucracy in real life, so I have lots of material to use!

For those who have wondered, characters and events from _The Force Unleashed_ will not here come into play; I am not familiar enough with that game to take it into account. (While there are a few parallels between that game and this story, I initially wrote this after the release of Episode II in 2002)

As always, I appreciate any constructive criticism you may have to share!

**Redevelopment**

The comlink on the nightstand jangled with an irritating novelty song. Belesa couldn't imagine why she had ever thought it was funny. She reached for the little screen and swiped across the bottom edge with her finger.

"Are you awake?"

Belesa pulled the comm from her bedside table and held it up to her face in the dark. Dara glowed back at her, looking worried and drawn. "Dara, where in the holy galaxy have you _been? _Six days,no calls! Not answering the door! I was about to ask Father to help me find you!"

Dara started guiltily. "I am so sorry I worried you. I know I should have called. I took a research trip with Professor Ignatius... it was completely last minute, but we had the chance to do some work on Ord Mantell. We only just got back tonight, and you know I forgot…"

"…To charge your comlink. I should have guessed. You owe me breakfast after _that_ scare. I have to be at work by nine, but I can meet you at seven-thirty."

"Bagwa's?"

"Fine."

Belesa took a quick sonic shower and dressed for work, choosing a soft lavender sweater and gray pencil skirt. Dara teased her about rarely wearing anything that would be inappropriate on the bridge of a Star Destroyer… she'd show Dara she could wear something fun for a change.

When Belesa arrived at her friend's favorite greasy spoon, she opened the door hesitantly to a distracted but friendly greeting from the blonde human owner behind the counter. Normally, Belesa was intimidated to just walk through the door at Bagwa's Diner – you never knew what kind of creature you'd run into among the spacers, students, and aliens – but today, the clientele were significantly subdued.

Dara sat in a booth near the rear, sipping hot caf from a white striped mug. Belesa's cup already sat steaming on the table. Belesa slid onto the cracked red vinyl bench and drank gratefully.

"It's so quiet in here. What's up with everyone?"

Fear and sympathy mingled in Dara's normally calm expression. Belesa followed the other diners' solemn gazes toward the holoscreen over the lunch counter.

_"Admiral Fenster Grey, Director of Military Procurement, was found dead this morning in his apartment in the Imperial Palace."_

Flickers of turquoise light from the old-fashioned neon fixtures framed the screen and surrounded Larien Rynon's image. _"His Excellency wishes to convey his most sincere sorrow for the Grey family, and his heartfelt gratitude for four decades of loyal service extending back to the Old Republic."_

Belesa's caf grew cold on the table as she stared at the holoscreen. "Are you all right? Belesa, is the Admiral really dead?"

"I have to go home." Belesa dug in her purse and threw a handful of credits on the table. Coins spilled onto the floor. She tripped over a diner's unshod foot on the way out; for once, she didn't shudder when she brushed against his thick green fur.

At home, Belesa sent Lora a quick note claiming she was sick. She threw her work clothes on the floor, grabbed her nightgown and robe from the top of the dirty laundry, and crawled back into bed, startling the housekeeping droid into rebooting itself.

She flicked on the holoscreen over the bed only to see Bail Organa and a Navy officer she didn't recognize arguing over whether Admiral Grey had been responsible for the catastrophic system failure at Procurement.

_I did that. It was me. Oh, Gods and all that's holy, it was me._

Sliding past Admiral Grey's darkened window, Belesa squeezed her eyes closed. Dodging the cleaning droids busy with their off-hours tasks, Belesa retrieved a waterproof pouch from the maintenance hatch beneath the 'fresher unit. Fingers shaking, she carefully checked the pattern of clear tape on the back of the pouch. She exhaled in relief; the tape was undisturbed.

Belesa sank back against the beige paneled wall in the 'fresher and clutched the damp pouch in both hands. Pinpricks of starlight shone in her vision; her chest and lungs would not relax enough for a full breath to enter. What had she done? How had she possibly imagined she would not be caught slicing into the system?

Minutes later, her red speeder veered toward the south. Belesa flew most of the night, stopping only to check her navigation systems and buy an expensive bottle of water. A polar resort had just opened for the season, and throngs of people crowded the slopes. Squeezing between patrons in fancifully bright-colored winter wear and showy goggles, Belesa slipped the waterproof pouch into a slot marked "Incinerator."

Belesa watched the Holonet news over breakfast each morning. As the days passed by, the official inquest pointed to suicide; senior bureaucrats were expected to kill themselves or go into hiding when such disasters occurred. After the prescribed amount of fretting, the talking heads changed topics and forgot entirely about Admiral Grey.

Belesa took all of her accrued vacation time. When it ran out, she went into her own kind of hiding, holing up in her apartment and having take-away dinners delivered nightly. She ate the leftovers for breakfast and watched old historical dramas, one episode after another, until their fictitious problems were more real and more immediate than her own.

Red-eyed from crying and late nights, bloated from a constant diet of salty take-away food, Belesa stared at herself in the mirror. In her bathrobe pocket, her comlink jangled for attention; she couldn't be seen like this. She set it to voice only and answered.

"Are you all right, darling?"

"Mother, I'm fine. I'm taking some time off."

"You sound dreadful. Turn on the video."

"The lens is cracked," she lied.

"Take it back to the shop, then!"

"Mother, I can't."

"Everyone's been calling – Lora was inconsolable – they questioned her yesterday, and no one's seen her since!"

Later that evening, Dara's picture showed on the comm. Belesa was watching her favorite episode of the Old Republic serial, _All Our Stars_. "Pause."

Furious text messages scrolled under Dara's avatar. "_Answer it, I know you're there! I have to tell you something really important!_"

Belesa reached over and powered down her comlink. Dara's face dwindled to nothing on the dark screen and silence prevailed. "Play program."

Belesa stared blankly at the holoscreen on the bedroom wall, her eyes drawn by colors and movement, not by attention to the plot.

_If Dara ever found out what really happened to the Admiral, she would never forgive me. I should have told him I killed the system. The Emperor would not have called him out – the shame would be mine alone, and I should have died for it, not the Admiral. _

Guilt was a new emotion for Belesa: before, she had always taken what life offered with an open hand, walking away from any consequences to others.

Belesa's mother rang the doorbell on a Sunday morning about three months after the Admiral's death. Belesa grudgingly let her in. Adreana Rynon took in her daughter's disheveled appearance with a lifted brow, and then set down the basket of pastries she had brought and embraced her.

Belesa snuffled into her mother's shoulder. Adreana held her daughter at arm's length, reached for a tissue, and wiped her cheeks as if she were just a little girl again. Belesa hiccupped out a laugh.

"Darling, you've got to get smartened up. Your father's got a friend in Redevelopment. You remember Madam Dane? She's looking for a few talented young people to survey old Republic piles and plan their rebuilding. It'll be a complete change of pace, and it'll be fun for you… you always loved to draw pictures of palaces and things when you were a little girl."

Gun-shy and skeptical, Belesa agreed to an interview. She settled into her new position, bringing a crate of personal things from her old office in Procurement. Her first project was helping to redesign the landing pads at the Senate building; it was dull and unimportant, but the little details of plascrete and safety markings consumed her attention.

No one from Redevelopment really talked to Belesa outside of work duties. Admiral Grey's suicide clung to her like a thick gray veil others were afraid to penetrate. Everyone her own age went to the dance clubs after work on Friday nights, but Belesa went to her parents' house for a quiet dinner. Sometimes she saw a play or a concert with Dara, but even her best friend seemed preoccupied in her presence. Belesa tried to draw her out, to ask what Dara had so badly wanted to tell her the night she shut off her comlink, but Dara always changed the subject.

Belesa's new supervisor, Szera Dane, handed her a plasfilm cylinder. "I think you're ready for a new assignment, Miss Rynon. You've done very well handling details, and I know you'll have a lot of ideas." Belesa unrolled the plasfilm and her eyes widened. She glanced across at Madam Dane for confirmation, and the older woman smiled.

Belesa swung her speeder across three lanes of traffic and nearly caused a midair collision. Her father hung onto the bar over the passenger side window. He always got motion-sick: particularly when his daughter was at the controls.

"That's where I'm starting! We're doing our initial survey tomorrow afternoon." Belesa pointed across traffic to the upthrust towers of the old Jedi Temple. Belesa's childhood room in the Palace apartments stood just across the abyss-like street between the buildings, and she knew the Temple's silhouette like she knew her own home.

Five spires stood tall over a variegated building, massive and crumbling. Black scars from a long-ago blaze were visible on the crenellated walls. Over thousands of years, the building had evolved in layers of dark history, sending tendrils of distrust and superstition across the Galaxy. The empty shell sat in silent testament to the dead Republic, awaiting rebirth and a new age of glory. "It's a prime location. I can't imagine why it hasn't been redone before… it's an eyesore."

The Councilor's lined face betrayed concern. "The Emperor let the Jedi Temple decay for his own reasons."

"Yes," she said, "And now it's time to bring it into the present. Can't you imagine?"

"No," said her father, gently touching her shoulder. "But if you can, perhaps there's cause to investigate. I haven't risen this far by second-guessing Emperor Palpatine."

"This will do, Corporal." Riding shotgun in Belesa's red speeder, the stormtrooper signaled to the escort vehicle hovering just beside them. Six glossy, white-armored comrades fanned out on the landing pad. Securing the entrance, the corporal signaled to the lieutenant.

"Cleared for landing, Madam."

"Really, it's Miss."

The lieutenant's armored skeleton-face betrayed no human emotion. Belesa suppressed an unbecoming twinge of fear. She knew that human men cloned from a single donor lived beneath the masks, but she had never seen their faces.

"We'll secure the area and then you can take your survey, Miss Rynon. We have firm orders to withdraw at eighteen hundred hours; this sector is dangerous at night."

Belesa grumbled and glanced at her chrono – that left her only twenty minutes. "We'll come back first thing in the morning," she told the lieutenant, slipping down from her speeder and setting the locks. The landing pad and entryway bore scars of heavy fighting; blasters and lightsabers both, she realized with a shiver.

A shrieking, feathered thing rocketed out from the depths of the passageway. Belesa yelled and covered her head.

The troopers took a defensive stance, but the lieutenant chuckled. "Miss, that was just a canyon bat. They come up from the lower levels now and then – nothing to fear."

"Thanks." Belesa smoothed the cropped hair that prickled at the back of her neck. Cautiously, the small party passed under the heavy overhang and into a vast, columned atrium. Belesa stopped, staring up at the interior of the ancient Jedi Temple. Late-afternoon sunlight streaked in through tall, oval windows, illuminating patterned patches on the floor. Wide aisles and colonnades surrounded the central gallery. Twisted remnants of ornamental trees lay on the floor, slowly turning to black charcoal powder.

Belesa sketched on her datapad, tapping out notes about luxury apartments and a ground-level restaurant with garden seating. The graceful columns would stand just as they were, bringing a feeling of serenity to the common area. The thought of the disused hulk brought back to life made her smile; prosperity was as much a core value of the Empire as peace and justice.

Belesa signaled to the Lieutenant that she was ready to move on, and the soldiers flanked her as she descended the stairs. Traveling with a platoon of stormtroopers had its benefits: she felt reckless, invincible.

Toward the center of the building, the walls were blackened and cracked. Here, the Jedi had met their end: a cancer excised, a contagion burned away from the galaxy. At the bottom landing, a light glowed inside a small room. The automatic doors hung at broken angles. Belesa had to push the dangling panel aside to enter.

Inside, the room was circular, dimly lit through golden stained glass windows. If it weren't for the remnants of bloodstains on the inlaid floor, it would be a peaceful refuge. Belesa knelt down to examine the tile work, thinking it could be cleaned without damaging the design.

Lightning exploded through the room, crackling like accelerant thrown on a new-laid fire. Belesa jumped to her feet.

"Miss!" the Lieutenant's voice crackled. "Get back!" She froze against the wall as the stormtroopers fired into a corner. Red blaster bolts sizzled up the walls. The answering volley seared her vision, and she pressed the back of her hand to her eyes involuntarily. "You and you! Get the lady out of here!" Belesa felt herself roughly grabbed by armored gloves and hustled backward toward the door. Death cried out all around her.

A blaster bolt reflected off the stained-glass window. The trooper holding her left arm fell to the ground in a heap of armor; smoking wounds burned at his neck and armpit. Belesa grabbed the fallen trooper's rifle and pointed it shakily into the corner.

All six troopers and their Lieutenant lay dead, their white-clad corpses crowding the floor. A hooded figure draped in tattered charcoal gray stepped over the bodies. In his hands pulsed an incandescent beam of light, brighter than white. Belesa couldn't look at it directly without burning her eyes. _Force user,_ she realized with terror. _Jedi._

"You're not who I expected." The gray-robed man took a step forward. Belesa raised the blaster rifle. "Oh, please. You don't even know how to fire that thing. Drop it." Belesa froze. "I said drop it!" Her fingers wrenched open of their own accord, and the blaster clattered to the tile floor.


	4. Mind Tricks

**Disclaimer: **Hardly necessary, you know none of this is mine except the OCs and the plot. Still, it's a habit...

**Author's Note:** Sorry for taking so long to resolve the cliffhanger! Thank you so much for all your kind and helpful comments. I'm glad to know so many readers are getting a kick out of my dive into the Empire. Star Wars is like going home for me… Bear with me while I work out the kinks in my rusty fandom. I've gone back and made some changes to the first three chapters; chapter 3 was expanded but the others only had spelling changes. Enjoy, and I'd love to hear your thoughts.

**Mind Tricks**

The Jedi threw back his ragged gray hood. An unnaturally high forehead rose above a ghostly pale face. Belesa's stomach turned at the sight of twin tentacles shifting sinuously under his cloak: he was a Twi'lek.

"You killed my escort. Are you going to finish me off?"

Her assailant lifted his upper lip: Belesa caught a glimpse of sharp, evenly spaced teeth. "Not yet. Curiosity is my longtime failing." He noticed the datapad at her belt and extended his palm toward her. "Give me that thing."

Belesa knew it was pointless to refuse; if she did, he'd only force her hand. She detached her datapad from its belt harness and handed it over. The Twi'lek's white lightsaber wavered and coruscated, turning the stained glass windows to sparkling halos, then dimmed as if it were about to fail. Abruptly, the energy beam flared into blinding light.

"Is my lightsaber bothering you?" Belesa nodded, unwilling to look at his face. To her relief, the Twi'lek switched off the weapon. Deep silence lay in the wake of the lightsaber's incessant buzzing, the absence of sound almost as oppressive as the sound itself. Her captor gestured toward a rotting circular sofa in the center of the room as his quick fingers flicked idly across her notes. One tentacle rose from his shoulder and twitched as he read.

Belesa stumbled over a fallen stormtrooper to reach the sofa. Great gouts of dust from the disintegrating velvet upholstery billowed up around her face and made her cough.

_What in the name of all that's holy is a Force user doing in the Imperial City? How could he have escaped detection for so long? I was only a little girl during the Purges._

"I was a little boy when they came… I was in the Bear Clan."

Shame burned hot in the back of her throat like heartburn. _What's the Bear Clan?_

The Twi'lek raised his furious red eyes. "Don't act like I've done something terrible to _you_, Imperial dog." He threw her datapad against the wall; the screen burst and threw fragments of reinforced glass across the circular room, clattering on the armored bodies of Belesa's escort.

"Hey, my datapad!" The alien Jedi grabbed her wrists and dragged her to her feet. "Let go of me!"

"I've killed all these devils right before your eyes - " the Twi'lek kicked at the Lieutenant's white-armored leg with disgust - "and you're complaining that I broke your blasted datapad."

Belesa shocked herself with a bitter laugh. "I'm going to die anyway."

The Jedi's warm hands relaxed ever so slightly. Belesa felt blood rushing back into her tingling fingers. "I should just kill you and get it over with."

Belesa's pulse rushed in her wrists; the void of deep space closed in around her field of vision. "Whatever."

The Jedi grasped her wrists tighter. "You don't mean that, Belesa."

"Get out of my head!" she shrieked, twisting away from him. The Jedi held her wrists and stepped toward her. Belesa quickly raised her knee between his legs. She'd had years of self-defense lessons with the Palace guards; Father insisted.

Belesa felt her knee freeze in mid-jab. "I'm not going to hurt you, you're far too entertaining." The Jedi's breath ruffled the short hair around her face. Up close, his skin glowed in pale moonlit lavender. "I'll let you go if you promise to come back."

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life, and lately, I have done some _very_ stupid things."

The Jedi released Belesa at last, leaving claw marks on her skin. Her hands tingled as the blood rushed back into her veins. "Think about it. Your apartment wouldn't be all that hard to get into. You live in the Kitera Towers, am I correct?"

Belesa turned and fled.

* * *

><p>Fully dressed, Belesa lay on her own bed. Her jacket and trousers were still dusty from the ruined Temple, but she couldn't force herself to wash and change. She felt frozen, completely passive. Muffled voices argued in the living room. Her parents had arrived immediately upon her return home, brought by Madam Dane's frantic call from the sector police station.<p>

"I won't have her going back there!"

"Larien, she's a grown woman."

"You'd prefer sending your only child into a place where six Stormtroopers couldn't survive? Are you insane?"

Through a protective layer of shock and numbness, Belesa listened to her parents fight. She'd almost never heard her father so upset – not since she and Dara had taken an unannounced weekend trip to Alderaan in their first year of university.

In the living room, something heavy fell to the floor and shattered. Belesa jumped in panic at the sound. "This is a disgrace!"

Sobbing, Szera Dane stammered out her defense. "Incursions from the lower levels are almost unheard of… Truly, I believed we had eliminated the criminal element beneath the Temple."

"Then eliminate it the _rest_ of the way!"

Even behind the sounds of her father's shouting match with Madam Dane, Belesa registered regular clicks and whirrs from the ventilation system. Her dry, tired eyes flicked to the louvered air duct over her bed. In her mind, the lightning weapon stuttered with static; it was only a matter of time.

The door panel slid softly open. Belesa squinted as her mother approached her bedside. "How are you feeling, darling? Do you want to talk about it?"

Belesa rubbed the still-tender claw marks on her wrists. "No."

"Madam Dane said it was an ambush. I can't believe I nearly lost you." Belesa turned her head away on the pillow. Every time she tried to relax, searing red eyes burned into her memory. "You'll need to talk to the Captain when he arrives."

Tears threatened in Belesa's eyes. "Mother, I can't do that."

"Think of their families."

"Stormtroopers don't have families."

"Then think of their comrades. They're not born as we are from a mother and father, but they _are_ human, and they are all brothers. They deserve to know what happened so they can prevent more senseless crimes."

"I'll think about it," she said finally.

"Good."

Belesa rolled over on the pillow, pulling her legs up to her chest. She closed her eyes and let sleep overtake her at last. In her dreams, a lightsaber crackled; it was like being trapped in a small room with a thunderstorm. Lavender tentacles waved like carnivorous plants, ready to seize and digest anything in their path.

* * *

><p>Belesa woke with a groan, her entire body tense and aching: she felt exactly as she had the morning after she'd rear-ended another speeder at a traffic signal. She rubbed her face and squinted at the bedside chrono: it was two-thirty in the afternoon. She didn't feel like she'd slept at all, but she must have. Belesa wiggled her bare toes under the duvet; someone, most likely her mother, had pulled her boots and socks off and covered her legs.<p>

The intercom buzzed softly. Belesa reached for the white button set in the wall beside the bed. Her mother's voice chirped out of the speaker. "Are you awake, dear? The Captain's here to see you."

Belesa rubbed her face. "I just woke up. I need a shower."

"Don't keep him waiting too long, love. He's a very busy man."

Belesa clicked off and staggered toward the fresher, kicking her dirty clothes toward the wardrobe. The sonic shower was pleasant but Belesa wished for real water for once. She felt caked with filth from the ruined Temple, crusted with the funeral ashes of the past.

The past was terrifyingly real; there were no Jedi left on Imperial Center, no Jedi anywhere. Only Darth Vader remained, the Lord of the Sith, the Emperor's shield and the Empire's justice. Was it possible she herself had been tricked?

"Belesa!" her mother called. Belesa threw on the first clean clothes in the wardrobe and slumped into the living room.

The Captain stood at attention behind Belesa's sofa, large blaster holstered at his side. Belesa had trouble meeting his line of sight even through the helmet. "Won't you sit down, Captain?"

"No thank you, Miss Rynon. I came to offer my sincere apologies for our failure at the Jedi Temple."

Belesa looked dumbly at her mother. She had expected a questioning, or at very least, a dressing-down. "I don't feel like it was your fault."

The stormtrooper Captain's voice conveyed the fear his armored face could not. "Lord Vader was rather direct with me; you were under our protection."

Belesa's mother gave her a pointed look. "I'm so sorry for the loss of your men," she faltered.

"Your sympathies are appreciated." The Captain saluted. "If you need protection again, you'll be assigned to a more elite company at Lord Vader's orders."

Confused, Belesa showed the Captain out. She stood staring at the back of the closed door for some minutes after he had gone. Lady Adreana laid her cool hand on Belesa's shoulder, and her daughter spoke without turning around.

"Mother, that wasn't at all what I thought was going to happen."

"Nor I." Belesa's mother led her back to the sofa. "Please tell me what really happened, darling."

Belesa opened her mouth to tell her mother everything, but her throat constricted and no words would come. Her chest ached; she felt she couldn't draw a full breath. Was the Twi'lek controlling her even now, or was her own superstitious fear all that held her back? Her breath came in shallow, ragged pants. Belesa's mother rubbed her back in concentric circles just as she had when she was ill as a child, but instead of calming her, the soft caresses only made her more restless.

"Why don't you go home and tell Father I'm all right?"

"Are you sure?"

"I feel like I need to be by myself for a while. I'll be fine."

Lady Adreana rose and smoothed the wrinkles from her deep red day gown. "I ran your prep unit this morning… how have you been feeding yourself, you didn't even have any protein concentrate! I had to send out for supplies. You've got meals for the next few days in the refrigerator. Just warm them up."

"Apparently, twenty-three is not considered old enough to fill my own prep unit?"

Lady Adreana's brows constricted at her daughter's weak joke. "Take care of yourself, and if you need any company at all, call home."

"I'm going to call Dara."

"Please do. She's left about forty messages yesterday and today. I gather she'd been trying to reach you on your datapad." Belesa repressed a shudder at the memory of glass fragments raining on white armor. "You're cold. Go back to bed."

Belesa pulled the duvet up around her chin and watched as the housekeeping droid finished vacuuming up the gritty black dust on the carpet and extended its pincers, carrying her soiled clothes to the wash unit. Reproaching her, the little droid whirred into the living room.

Belesa reached for her commlink. The last message was from five minutes previously. _"Please, please call me. I heard you were in some kind of trouble. I'm leaving soon."_

"Where are you going?" asked Belesa as soon as Dara picked up the comm.

"Thank all that's holy, you're all right. Your mother wouldn't tell me anything – she said you just needed to rest."

"I'm okay. Just a little shaken up."

"What happened to you?"

Belesa closed her eyes. She wanted so badly to tell Dara everything, but who knew whether the Twi'lek Jedi was monitoring her every thought? She pictured his crackling energy blade advancing toward her friend, Dara's wounds cauterizing shut even as she fell to the floor.

"I'll tell you sometime. I promise you I'm going to be just fine."

Dara exhaled. "Listen, I have to tell you good-bye. I hope I see you again someday."

"Why? You're not coming back?"

Dara paused. "No. I don't think so. You've been like a sister to me, Bel... I wish I could tell you where to look for me."

Belesa's mind swam with confusion. "Please don't go!"

Dara's voice was thick. "When you know where to find me, I want you to look. Someday you'll know. I pray the galaxy keeps you safe." The comm clicked off. Belesa frantically called back, but no one answered. A droid voice finally said the line had been disconnected: Belesa was alone with nothing but her fears.


	5. Straight Down

**Disclaimer: **Lucasfilm owns the setting and canon characters. The OCs are mine, for better or worse! The background is partly inspired by the _Jedi Academy_ EU novels by Kevin J. Anderson. Some dialogue has parallels with _Return of the Jedi_. The Wheel is featured in the old Marvel comics, which I highly recommend if you have never read.

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for all your kind and helpful reviews. I'm glad to know Belesa is a little bit of a polarizing character, and inspiring a variety of reactions. She is a product of her upbringing, if you can imagine what a child growing up under Palpatine's and Vader's noses would be taught.

Thanks to chaos Leader for the note about the Imperial Inquisitorius. I always appreciate your help in bringing out the little details I may have missed in my limited perusal of the EU. Any other thoughts or suggestions are welcome! Enjoy.

**Straight Down**

For the next week, Belesa jumped at shadows; she couldn't imagine how or why she herself was not bearing the cost of the slaughter at the old Jedi Temple. When Belesa returned to work, Szera Dane was not in the office. Supposedly the Director of Redevelopment was taking a long holiday on the Wheel, ex-Senator Greyshade's space station resort in the Mid Rim.

Clutching a sheaf of rolled plasfilm cylinders, Belesa walked silently down the corridor of Imperial City Redevelopment. She suffered every time she walked past the darkened office beside her own. In a part of her heart she had seldom listened to before, Belesa knew that Madam Dane was not spending her days gambling or visiting the hyper-spa. By night, she did not eat in fine restaurants with panoramic views of stars and bright nebulae; she had never made it to the Wheel.

On Friday evening, Belesa had a light dinner at her parents' apartment. The balcony had such a sweeping and lovely view; the five spires of the Temple silhouetted against a hazy pink and orange sunset sky.

"Father, it was my fault the Stormtroopers were killed. I just don't understand why I haven't been punished."

Larien Rynon laughed disbelievingly and drained his wine glass. "His Excellency would be very proud of you, Belle. Perhaps taking responsibility is penance enough."

Belesa shivered, thinking of what 'taking responsibility' normally meant to an Imperial servant. A flash ran through her mind of something Father had once mentioned – Lord Vader flicking the merest gesture at a disgraced officer as the very breath of life constricted in his trachea.

"I'm afraid, Father."

Larien Rynon set his empty wine glass down on the crystal side table and leaned his elbows on his knees. His fashionably tight brown jersey and slender trousers made him seem as attenuated as an Ithorian. "May I reassure you that His Excellency speaks very fondly of you?"

Belesa's hand constricted around the stem of her wine glass. "Of _me?_"

Her father smoothly changed the subject and reached forward to spread a marinated vegetable relish on a toasted slice of bread. "The Shadow Troopers completed their cleansing below the Temple just this week. You'll be relieved to hear that several nests of dissidents were removed."

The breath stopped in Belesa's throat. She lifted a hand to her larynx.

Belesa's mother returned from the kitchen with a fresh tray of appetizers, taking in her daughter's pained expression. "Dear, are you all right?"

Belesa coughed and laughed falsely. "Fine! I think I've inhaled a crumb." Mother smiled and refilled Belesa's wine glass.

* * *

><p>The Jedi Temple stood between the Kitera Towers and her office in Redevelopment. It was the quickest way home, and afforded the most opportunities to turn easily; that was the reason she always gave herself when she drove slowly past the dark entryway every evening. She wondered what had become of the Twi'lek… had the Shadow Troopers found him?<p>

A proximity alarm howled, jolting her out of her thoughts. She banked hard to avoid colliding with a rusty T-95 Skyhopper. The pilot cursed at her, and Belesa quickly flicked a hand gesture that was rude in ninety-five percent of known systems.

The Skyhopper pulled up close beside her and rammed her fender, swearing in a guttural language. "Hey! This is a new speeder, bantha breath!"

Something heavy thudded onto Belesa's rear hatch. A clipped scream of surprise escaped her throat – a short, sharp sound like a small animal being clubbed. In her rear viewscreen, she saw a familiar clawed hand with lavender skin.

"Roll it down!" shouted the Twi'lek, his claws making grooves in the smooth enameled surface as the Skyhopper collided once again with the red speeder. The Skyhopper pilot pulled a large blaster. The Twi'lek reached for a black cylinder in a rough holster that seemed to be made of old rope and duct tape.

"Not that! Get in here!" Belesa yelled, punching at the window controls. The Twi'lek Jedi fell into the rear seat in a heap of tattered charcoal robes.

The Skyhopper fired a warning shot. Panicked, Belesa plunged the speeder in a spiral. Swearing, the Twi'lek crumpled to the floor between the front and rear seats. Belesa caught sight of a disused landing bay connected to an old shopping center she used to visit with her mother. She swung inside and cut the power, her inexpert landing scraping sparks from the belly of the speeder.

Belesa turned in her seat and faced the Twi'lek with fury. "What in the ever-loving Galaxy was_ that?_ You can't go around pulling lightsabers on people!" The Twi'lek seemed smaller and his head tentacles quivered with what could have been shame. "I hope I'm not the first to tell you that you officially don't exist."

The Jedi gave a weak laugh and clambered up on the rear seat. "I know. They killed everyone else… all my friends, all my teachers. The only reason I got away was that I ran away… I didn't want to clean my cubicle. Master Yoda said…"

Belesa had heard that name before: a fragment of a ghost story from her childhood. She shivered.

"Master Yoda told me to come back when I understood how we all must work together. One small boy from the Bear Clan was no less important to the Jedi Order than a great Master… but they're all dead, and I'm alive."

"How old were you?" Belesa asked quietly.

"I was four."

Belesa didn't answer for a few minutes. She imagined a small Twi'lek boy alone in the wilderness under Imperial City. Slippery with sweat, her hands worked back and forth on the control yoke. "How did you survive?"

"I wasn't alone. I knew I couldn't go back up to the Temple, so I kept going down… and down. An old Rodian woman found me; she raised me as her own."

"_People_ don't live down there. Just rats."

"There are hundreds of thousands of people in the deep levels. They're my family."

"Why were you in the Temple that day?"

"Is this an inquisition?"

Belesa gave a superstitious flinch. When she was a girl, she had heard a vague rumor about a secret group in charge of exterminating surviving Jedi – no more than a rumor, though, because her father had turned white and asked her to leave the room when the subject came up.

"No, but I'd really like to know. I'm pretty sure I just saved your life back there."

The Twi'lek grinned and showed pointed, evenly spaced teeth. "Likewise."

"Oh, come off it!"

"Belesa, he _shot_ at you."

"How did you just happen to be where you could drop onto my speeder and save the day?" Belesa wiggled her fingers in a derogatory gesture for Jedi business.

It was the Twi'lek's turn to flinch. His red eyes scanned the depths of the darkened landing bay with a faraway expression. "I had a vision."

Belesa's gorge rose. "A vision?"

"I saw your speeder shot down. You're a terrible pilot; you never could have landed safely with an engine out."

"Oh, thanks a lot!"

The Twi'lek's hand crept slowly toward her shoulder. Belesa caught her breath at the warmth of his rough palm on the thin fabric of her work blouse. "I have visions all the time, but they're usually not so clear. I almost never see people I recognize."

"If you hadn't been there, you think I would have crashed? Even though you didn't actually help me at all? I was the one who saved you!"

The Twi'lek grinned. "_Always in motion, the future is..._ That's what Master Yoda used to say to the older kids."

"I'm sorry; I can't believe all of this. You're not supposed to be here. And if you are, you're in deeper trouble than I could possibly get you out of even if I wanted to."

Belesa thought of the young Stormtroopers the Twi'lek had killed in cold blood, and her mother's words rang loudly in her head: _'They're not born as we are from a mother and father, but they are human, and they are all brothers.'_

"I should turn you in."

"You won't," he said confidently.

"Really?"

"I can feel it."

Belesa let fly with a hysterical giggle. "I'm sorry… I can't help it."

"It is a fairly absurd situation."

"I feel like you know everything about me, and I don't know anything about you."

"I'm sorry." The Twi'lek's head tentacles vibrated again. "I really didn't go about it in a very polite way."

Belesa sensed that was all the apology she'd receive. She smoothed down her work skirt, and then extended her right hand over the back of the seat. "Belesa Rynon. Associate in Imperial City Redevelopment."

The Twi'lek smiled through tightly closed lips and took her hand. His fingers were warm and rough. "Sy'laisblenn."

"Silas Blenn?"

"That's how it comes out for most Basic speakers."

"And in Rodian?"

"Hreeda spoke mostly Huttese at home."

"Spoke?"

"She died a few years ago. No, no, it's all right," said Silas, raising both hands in a calming gesture. "She returned to the Force as all life must."

Belesa looked at him curiously. "But you risked your life to rescue _me._"

"That's different. Hreeda had a full life; she was prepared for the next journey."

"You keep saying you're of the 'Bear Clan.'"

Silas chuckled a little and stretched his arms along the rear dashboard. "We begin in the Nursery, then move on to the Bear Clan. I haven't had any training since I was four years old." Silas squeezed his hands into fists, then relaxed them forcibly, one finger at a time. "I've grown up and my contact with the Force has changed – I have visions, and I found this broken lightsaber and repaired it – sort of. I had a Jedi Holocron for a while when I was a little boy, but it was stolen."

"What's a Holocron?"

"A teaching device…" Silas smiled and leaned forward. "You're more curious about the Jedi than I would have expected."

Belesa studied her companion, who sat holding his lightsaber loosely in one hand. The emergency lighting fell feebly across his pale lavender face, highlighting his heavily drawn features. "You know they'll find you if you stay up here long enough."

"I was looking for another Holocron and parts for my lightsaber. I've _got_ to fix that crackle."

"Oh, I don't know, I kind of like it. I imagine it's very distracting." Silas chuckled. "Jedi aren't supposed to laugh."

"I don't really know what I'm supposed to do. That's the problem."

They sat quietly for a few minutes. Belesa's proximity detector beeped a warning, and her head swung around to scan their surroundings. The landing bay seemed deserted. "I don't see anything, but I think we should get out of here. Buckle up this time, why don't you?"

Silas climbed over into the front seat and took the copilot's chair. "Did I ask you to sit up here?"

"No, but I don't like being in the back seat. Makes me motion-sick."

"Please don't throw up in my speeder."

"I intend not to." Belesa pushed slowly upward on the hover controls and backed out of the landing bay with more caution than she had used previously. "I don't see anything," Silas offered.

"Do you _feel_ anything?"

"Was that a joke?"

Belesa just smiled sideways at Silas as the speeder rocketed out of the landing bay. "Can I take you anywhere?"

"I'd really rather see you home."

"Seriously?"

Silas leaned back in the seat and stretched his muscled arm out along the window. "I can get home easily from your building. The deep levels are everywhere, you know; straight down."

Belesa docked in her usual bay and punched the unlock controls. "Thank you, I guess."

"For what?"

"For distracting that crazy guy in the Skyhopper, at least."

"Hreeda always told me I was a genius at distraction." Silas' smile was unexpectedly winning when Belesa couldn't see the tips of his sharpened, widely spaced teeth. "I think you should invest in some better proximity sensors so you don't have any more fender benders. How long have you been flying, anyway?"

"I don't have to sit here and listen to this, Jedi. Get out of my speeder."

"I'm walking you up to your apartment."

"You sure as hell are not." Belesa's heart beat rapidly, and she wished for a split second that she had brought her pocket blaster. She really ought to travel with the damn thing, Father insisted after the ambush, but Belesa almost never remembered it.

The Twi'lek's voice was soft. "Why do you keep thinking I'm going to hurt you?"

"Get out of my head, why don't you?"

"I don't have to be in your head. It would be obvious to anyone with two eyes that you're patting around for your blaster." Belesa's hand stopped short. "But honestly, I don't know why you wouldn't have shot at the Skyhopper yourself if you really did have one."

Belesa laughed and sagged forward against the control yoke. "I really ought to get rid of you right now." Belesa wondered at Silas' unguarded smile as he climbed down from the speeder hatch, and she followed, hopping down from the hovering craft.

"Oh, Gods and all that's holy," said Belesa with pain as she took in the ruin of the speeder. "Poor baby!" She stroked her fingertips over the deep gashes in the once-polished chrome belly plate, and down the ragged marks made by the Twi'lek's claws as he scrabbled to stay aboard.

"Better it than you. It's just a speeder; A few thousand credits will set it right."

"You know, there are some people in this galaxy I just can't figure out." Silas Blenn smiled at her, his lavender tentacles twitching with what seemed like mischief. "Listen, are you hungry or anything? My mother made about three months' worth of food, and my freezer unit is so full I can hardly open the door without things falling out."

"In the spirit of helping out, I could be persuaded to stay for dinner." Lights blinked on at the far end of the garage – another speeder was coming. "Go to your apartment, I'll be there soon."

As quickly as Silas had dropped out of the sky and onto the back of Belesa's speeder, he was gone. Startled, she swung her head around looking for him, but stopped as her neighbor parked a blue vintage speeder beside her.

In her arms, old Lila Bowman held a two-headed canine, a vanity species and her proudest possession. One furry white head drooled while the other barked. Belesa never talked to Madam Bowman if she could help it; the old woman was impossibly nosy, and half gone in the head besides. It was a wonder she could still pilot at all.

"Hello, dear! Oh, my stars, what happened to your lovely speeder?" Lila Bowman released her dog – or was it dogs? wondered Belesa with a grimace, and the creature ran around barking like mad.

"Just a fender bender. Nothing to worry about."

"Oh, dear, you poor thing." Lila Bowman talked Belesa's ear off in the lift, and continued down the corridor toward their apartments.

Belesa paused at the door of her own apartment. "Good night," she said firmly.

"Come and have dinner with me, dear."

"No, really, I can't, Madam Bowman, but that's kind of you to offer." Belesa heard faint clunking noises inside her apartment – she was fairly certain the Jedi had gained entry and found the freezer unit.

"Ah, my dear, just for a few moments—"

"No!" Belesa snapped. The double-headed dog barked in fear at the sharpness in her voice, and a smelly yellow liquid dribbled down Madam Bowman's arm.

"Bad precious!" chided the old lady, walking down the corridor toward her own door.

When Belesa entered her own apartment at last, Silas stood impatiently in front of the warming unit, watching a carousel platform spin one of Mother's packaged meals. His tentacles twitched back and forth like a feline's tail as it anticipates leaping on a mouse.

"Sometimes, when we are guests, we wait for our hosts to put the food in the warmer."

Silas didn't appear to hear her as he gobbled the pasta and sauce directly from the freezer container like a mynock on a power cord. Belesa's own stomach growled to witness the rogue Jedi's hunger.

In the space of one evening, Belesa had gone from fearing and loathing the alien creature in the middle of her kitchen to somehow inviting him home for dinner. _I'm in completely over my head._


End file.
